-I quite understand that. Well,
I must then. I might have been a better friend to her if I hadn't
married; and might love her better and love her longer for that matter.
But, of course, I can't expect you to understand that. I only want to be
sporting, and a man's idea of being sporting isn't the same--"

"Now, now--you're forgetting and talking nonsense, Raymond. You really
are forgetting. A man's idea of being 'sporting' does not mean telling
stories to a trusting and loving girl, does it? I don't want anybody to
judge you but yourself. I am perfectly content to leave it to your own
conscience. And very sure I am that if you ask yourself the question,
you'll answer it as it should be answered. So sure, indeed, that I have
done a definite thing about it, which I will tell you in a moment. For
the rest you must find a house where you please and be married as soon
as you can. And when Daniel understands what a right and proper thing
you're doing, I think you'll very soon find all will be satisfactory
again in that quarter."

"Thank you, I'm sure. But don't speak to him yet. I won't ask for
favours nor let you, Aunt Jenny. If he comes to me, well and good--I
certainly won't go to him. As to Sabina, we'll clear out and get married
in a day or two."

"Not before a Registrar," pleaded Miss Ironsyde.

"Before the Devil I should think," he said, preparing to leave her.

She chid him and then mentioned certain preparations made for this
particular evening.

"Don't be cross any more, and let me see you value my good will and
love, Ray, by doing what I'm going to ask you to do, now. So sure was I
that, when the little details were cleared up, you would feel with me,
and welcome your liberty from constraint, and return to Sabina with the
good news, that I asked her to meet you to-night--this very night, my
dear, so that you might go home with her and make her happy. She had tea
with me--I made her come, and then she went to friends, and she will be
in the Lovers' Grove waiting for you at ten o'clock--half an hour from
now."

His impulse was to protest, but he recognised the futility for so doing.
He felt baffled and cowed and weary. He hated himself because, weakened
by poverty, an old woman had been too much for him. He clutched at a
hope. Perhaps by doing as his aunt desired and going through with this
thing, he would find his peace of mind return and a consciousness that,
after all, to keep his promise was the only thin